Back
by sevy MMAD
Summary: Voldemort is dead and a new year is due to begin. Minerva McGongall is the new headmistress, but she doesn't feel up to the task. What will her friends and students do to help her? When she starts seeing something - or someone - which makes her happy again, is it a miracle or is she actually going mad?
1. Not alone

**Back**

**by sevyMMAD**

**Ok, so first of all: hello everyone and thanks for having decided to give this story a chance! ;) It's been ages since I last published a story, so I hope I've become a better writer in the meantime. However, I'm still not a native speaker/writer, so please forgive any mistakes. If you were kind enough to point them out to me, I would be very grateful! I leave you to your reading. Thank you! :D **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned, I'm just having a bit of fun with them! This disclaimer applies to the whole story. **

Minerva McGonagall was sitting behind the desk in Dumbledore's office... _no, of hers, damn it! Why couldn't she remember it? More than a year had passed since his death, after all! _

School had already finished some months before, September was approaching. In order not to think, Minerva hadn't but worked all the time the whole summer, which had brought about the rather unpleasant fact that now, a few days before school begin, she had nothing to do. She took a Transfiguration book from one of the many shelves in the room. She still loved that subject, although she now was Headmistress. Thinking about Transfiguration, however, made her think about a problem which she was sure was only the first of many she would have to face as a result of her being utterly unable to be Headmistress. In fact, that year she hadn't managed to find anyone suitable to take her place as a teacher, so she had decided to continue that job alongside hers, for the time being. She then had, in hope of gaining an effective help, appointed Filius Flitwick as Deputy.

Putting the book down on her desk, she took her head in her hands.

_If only Albus hadn't died, she wouldn't have those problems; he would be Headmaster and she, his loyal Deputy and Transfiguration Professor, as it should have been! If, if, if… enough with those ifs! _

As she now did as a habit, she dared glancing at Dumbledore's portrait. He was exactly as he had been since the evening he had died. He slept peacefully, and he hadn't woken up once since his painting had appeared in the office, and not for lack of trying. Frustrated, Minerva took one of the many trinkets which still remained in the office and threw it towards the wall in front of her, relishing in the noise it made as it shattered. To hell with her composure!

Rising her eyes, she saw Poppy Pomfrey standing with a shocked face in front of the door which had just opened. _Why on earth did she have to come in in that precise moment? _

"I'd prefer if you knocked next time", she said in a detached, yet not unkind, manner, trying to accompany the sentence with a half-smile (but not succeeding entirely). After all she was one of her best friends.

"Minerva…" began the nurse. Minerva had in the meantime regained her composure, going back to being the strict and precise Professor McGonagall.

"Minerva, what's the matter with you? And don't you dare tell me it's nothing because I know you better than that! I've never seen you throwing things or giving in to your frustrations since… well, ever, so you'd better tell me straight away what's wrong with you!" she said in a stern tone, her hands on her hips.

The Deputy – no, Headmistress – didn't allow her composure to falter, although she secretly wished she could just shout that yes, there was something wrom with her, and that she was blind for not having understood what it was. Of course, no word passed her lips.

"Don't be daft, Poppy. Nothing is wrong with me, you worry too much. Look, I really appreciate your dedication to your job, but not everyone is ill, you know?" She countered with a scathing look. However, a fleeting look – which probably would have been missed by anyone else – towards Dumbledore's portrait belied her.

Madam Pomfrey's expression softened a bit, but showed clearly how she failed to understand.

"Minerva,we have all lost a friend, but we have all managed to go on.. what has happened to our strong, brave, fearless and stern Minerva McGonagall? I sometimes barely recognise you. We're all worried for you, dear. Especially Rolanda and Pomona."

While the matron was speaking, the Transfiguration Professor couldn't help paling.

_A friend... of course, yes. Just a friend. _

Hot tears threatened to spill, but Minerva managed to keep them under control. Instead, she settled for asking, in a slightly faltering voice:

"Rolanda and Pomona... are they already here?"

"We're all here," replied Poppy Pomfrey.

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrow.

"Why? Term isn't due to start for a while, yet. I thought you wanted to stay at home."

Poppy shrugged.

"We wanted to meet up and spend some time in company, now that Voldemort is dead and nothing stands in the way of celebrating with friends. I could ask you the same thing, anyway. What are _you_ doing already here?"

"I always stay here during the summer, Poppy."declared Minerva as if it were obvious.

"Not alone," objected Madam Pomfrey.

"No, not alone" agreed Minerva, without being able to add anything else. "Not alone," she repeated, sighing.

**Please leave me a little review, if you can spare the time! ;) **


	2. The picture

**First of all, thanks to you all who have read this story! I hope you will continue to do so in the future. A special thank you to Anna and who have left wonderful reviews. A big hug also to who favourited/followed this story. I hope I will not disappoint you with the next chapters. This story will have approximately 12 chapters – it might be a bit slow at the beginning, as you may have noticed, but it will speed up. :)**

**The picture**

**by sevy MMAD**

"_I always stay here during the summer, Poppy."declared Minerva as if it were obvious. _

"_Not alone," objected Madam Pomfrey._

"_No, not alone" agreed Minerva, without being able to add anything else. "Not alone," she repeated, sighing. _

Before Poppy could comment on those words, Pomona and Rolanda barged in loudly, hugging Minerva McGonagall without taking any notice of her stiff attitude – after all, when had she been relaxed? - happily recounting everything which had happened during their holidays. Minerva, thankful for the timely interruption, tried her best to listen to them despite not actually caring overly much for the topic, in order to avoid thinking about something else (and with something else she meant _someone_ else).

"Alright, alright" interrupted Minerva, trying to seem cheery, "how about we move all your enthusiasm somewhere else, before you destroy my office?"

The three friends readily agreed.

"Where shall we go?" asked Poppy, ever the practical one.

"The Quiddich pitch!" exclaimed promptly Rolanda Hooch. The others rolled their eyes.

"Near the lake", was Pomona suggestion. "It's just wonderful in this period of the year. Of course, the best place used to be the one near the little oak, but well, now that there's Dumbledore's t..."

Professor Sprout stopped dead, shocked by what she had said. Of course, she always had had the tendency to blabber about when she was excited, but still... An unnatural wave of silence had descended on them, while everyone turned to Minerva, waiting for her reaction.

Noticing that she was being observed, Minerva tried to maintain a reasonably calm expression – without actually managing very well. Various emotions swiftly passed in her eyes, none of them staying there long enough to be deciphered. Finally she spoke:

"I think I would prefer to go to the teacher's lounge."

Seconds after she had uttered he words, the three friends were already dragging her to that room. She followed them without really looking where she was going, lost in her thoughts.

_Albus... Dumbledore's __**tomb**__..._ he _is__ Dumbledore, Albus... but why are they talking of tombs? He must be alive, he must! _

Repressing the half sob which was threatening to come up her throat, she firmly refused to shed any tears. She had become really good at this, she mused. Really good.

_But he's not, he's not alive, he's dead! Minerva, please don't be stupid and try to remember: he's dead, he won't come back to you. He's dead, dead, gone forever. _

None of her friends, so solicitous and desperately trying to make her forget the accident, noticed anything. Once they arrived to the teacher's lounge, Poppy seemed to decide that her new purpose in life was to make Minerva eat some chocolate, while Pomona was being overly caring ad Rolanda was excitedly describing some handsome man she would introduce to her and who was "absolutely perfect for her!".

Minerva took her head in her hands before standing up and decidedly asserting:

"Stop it, all of you! I don't need any chocolate, attention, and I definitely don't need to go out with a man, Rolanda! Now, if you would excuse me..."

Without giving them the time to reply, she left the room and headed towards her chambers, cursing the day her friends had come back to Hogwarts.

Just as she was going past the gargoyle in front of the stairs leading to her office and chambers, Minerva McGranitt crossed Filius Flitwick, who greeted her with a big smile and a mouse-like voice. Cursing again silently her bad luck, she answered politely. After a few sentences, the wizard noticed she was not quite participating to the conversation; thus, he decided to leave her be and said goodbye.

A few minutes afterwards, Minerva was in her rooms. In the palms of her hands he held a photograph, shot a few years before – actually, probably at most one year before his death. It had been a sunny day, in July, and they had had a picnic. In the picture, her hair was down, freed from the constricting bun she always wore, and she was laughing, somewhat exasperated, trying to get Albus to give her her hairpins back. He was laughing as well, refusing to give in. It had been Severus, she remembered, who had taken the photograph – they hadn't even noticed he was there, actually, before he did that – claiming he wanted some evidence that the Deputy was not as strict as she wanted everyone to believe and that Albus's craziness was contagious.

It had not been a perfect time – Voldemort was still alive, people were dying everyday, but Minerva had the impression she had been so much happier, before.

Half an hour later, Minerva McGonagall was asleep on her bed, still completely dressed, her bun perfectly in place, her cheeks slightly marked by the few lonely tears she had allowed herself to cry in the privacy of her own room. She didn't notice it when three women sneaked in, put her hairpins away and tucked her in, not daring to try to separate her from the photograph she was clutching in her hands as if it were the most precious thing she had.


End file.
